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not so bad that I needed to have terrifying dreams about being deserted!
    I tried to talk myself out of the horrible mood the dream had left behind. I thought about what Charlotte would say. She’d probably laugh at me, tell me I was being a drama queen. She’d pull me out of it.
    Or would she? Sure, she’d make me feel embarrassed for being so silly, and it would make me want to stop talking about it. But that didn’t mean the feelings would go away. Maybe there were some things you couldn’t simply laugh out of existence.
    I thought about Robyn again. I wondered if she’d understand. Probably not. And I wasn’t likely to find out, either. Even if I did happen to see her again this week, you don’t exactly go around discussing your innermost thoughts and feelings with someone you’ve just met.
    I turned over and tried to get back to sleep. But my eyes refused to close. It was too dark, too quiet, and I was too scared of what I might dream about. I couldn’t bear to feel that awful sadness again.
    The charm dangled above my head, twinkling as it turned slowly. Thoughts in my head spun and twirled with it. I was thinking about all the things we’d done today, the shop, the Scrabble game that had gone on for hours. The dream I’d had when I fell asleep in front of the fire.
    The dream! Suddenly I was wide awake. The letters — the words.
WINDOW
and
OPEN.
They’d been spinning around my bed — this bed. My imagination was working overtime. Maybe it had been some kind of premonition! A command, something telling me to open my window!
    I knew it was just wishful thinking as usual, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. And anyway, I was starting to feel hot and claustrophobic. That did it. I got up and opened the window.
    As I climbed back into bed, I knocked into the charm spinning above me, and it fell from the beam. Tired and irritable, I grabbed it and shoved it in the bedside drawer.
    Please, no more nightmares,
I whispered to no one in particular. Then I closed my eyes and fell instantly asleep.
    “Philippa.”
    Someone was shaking my shoulder.
    “Philippa,” the voice whispered again.
    “Mom, please let me sleep a bit longer,” I mumbled. “It feels like the middle of the night.”
    “It
is
the middle of the night,” the voice replied. “And it’s not your mom!”
    I was still dreaming. I must have been, because I knew whose voice that was, and it couldn’t possibly be her!
    I opened an eye. It
couldn’t
be!
    I rubbed my eye. She was still there! In front of me, kneeling next to the bed, smiling at me, her green eyes shining in the darkness; her curly blond hair white and frizzy around her head, lit up by the sliver of moonlight tilting in through the window; her wings, soft and delicate, disappearing into her shoulder blades as I focused my gaze on her. It was really, truly her!
    “Daisy!” I blurted out.
    “Shhh,” she said, looking around anxiously. “You’ll wake your parents!”
    “Daisy!” I said again, trying to whisper. “It’s really you! It’s really, really you!”
    She nodded. “It’s really me,” she said, standing up and opening her arms wide, as if to show me with a grand flourish that she really had just materialized in my bedroom — after so long without the slightest hint of her.
    I was about to leap out of bed and give her a huge hug when I stopped myself. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” I said flatly. “This isn’t real. You’re not real, are you?”
    “Try me,” she said.
    What was there to lose? If I was dreaming, at least I was dreaming about Daisy and not about some terrifying grief and a bright light that broke my heart every time I tried to reach it.
    I jumped out of bed and threw my arms around her. She felt real! It all felt real!
    “You are, aren’t you? You’re real!” I said. “I’m
not
dreaming!”
    “No, you’re not dreaming,” she replied, and we jumped up and down, spinning in circles as we hugged and laughed.
    “I’ve